Monday, March 10, 2014

Essential Listening #2: Carole King "Tapestry"

It was the summer of 1971.  The headlines of the New York Times were breaking news with excerpts of the “Pentagon Papers”, a series of top-secret Vietnam War documents leaked to  the press by Daniel Ellsberg.  In popular culture, young women throughout the country were flocking to record stores in unprecedented numbers to buy an album that would remain atop the Billboard charts for the months to follow.  In dorm rooms and apartments everywhere, you could hear the turntable spinning, the women unified through a shared listening experience.  These were the songs of heartbreak and longing; songs that reflected the love they were falling in and out of.  Who was this chart topping artist that was captivating such a large audience?  Was it the latest rockstar or teen sensation?   Maybe Rod Stewart?  Or perhaps it was The Beatles’ Let It Be, holding on to hopes that the breakup was just a rumor?  The correct answer, as you might have guessed, is none of the above.  These women, no longer romanticizing over teenage crushes, were looking to replace with the idols of their youth with a role model who could guide them through their newfound womanhood. A role model who knew the experiences they were going through and could relate to the emotions they were feeling.  Someone like Carole King.  



The album in question was, of course, Tapestry.  Released on February 10, 1971, it rose to the top of the Billboard charts in June and stayed there for fifteen weeks throughout the summer.  The album was also met with critical success.  Jon Landau of Rolling Stone said “Carole King's second album, Tapestry, has fulfilled the promise of her first and confirmed the fact that she is one of the most creative figures in all of pop music. It is an album of surpassing personal-intimacy and musical accomplishment and a work infused with a sense of artistic purpose. It is also easy to listen to and easy to enjoy.”

But Tapestry wasn’t the only release of its kind that year.  Joni Mitchell and Carly Simon also drew their share of attention.  Media outlets went so far as declaring 1971 the Year of the Female Singer-songwriter.  In the height of Tapestry’s popularity that summer, Mitchell released her seminal Blue album.  The two albums, which undoubtedly are among the most influential in all of popular music, are strikingly similar in many regards.  Both address themes of relationships, longing for past lovers, and of returning home.  Even more so, both albums were recorded at the same location - the famed A&M Studios in Los Angeles, and featured many of the same musicians (James Taylor played guitar on both albums, as well as Russ Kunkel on drums).  And while both are critically revered, it was Tapestry that saw the greatest commercial success.  The album stayed at the top of the Billboard 200 for 15 consecutive weeks during the summer of its release and has gone on to sell over 25 million copies.  It still holds the record for most consecutive weeks at #1 for a female solo artist.

When asked about why she thought Tapestry was so successful, King replied that it was simply the ‘right place and the right time’.  Now, of course, we must not forget that she had already established her career as a hit songwriter, so her success with the album should have come to no surprise.  But I don’t think anyone, including King herself, would have predicted the success to come at such a level.  What was it about Tapestry that drew such appeal?   And what was this “right place at the right time” that caused the album to resonate so strongly with the audience of its day?

I argue that the popularity of Tapestry can be attributed to several factors.  The social context of the time, with the rise of the feminist movement, no doubt influenced its success.  But also of importance was the evolution of musical taste itself, with a notable shift towards singer-songwriter driven folk rock.  These artists and their new sounds were changing the course of popular music, penning their own lyrics with intimate accounts of their personal relationships, hardships, and struggles.

Furthermore, the album was released in a particular era in history when the young women (and men, for that matter) of King’s generation were processing the newly emerging sexual revolution and feminist movements, and  learning how these evolving social norms fit into their own lives.  Prior to the album’s release, the previous decade was witness to a number of cultural milestones that advanced notions of free love and sexuality.  From the rise of “the pill” to the Summer of Love, this young generation was redefining the norms of relationships.  But the same decade that brought these exciting new waves of creativity and freedom also suffered from the excesses of substance abuse, and the 1970s began with the unfortunate drug-related deaths of Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin.  Reflecting on the passing of these iconic superstars who died prematurely before their prime, their peers knew certain lifestyles of the 1960’s was not sustainable.  The generation was ready for a change, ready to slow down their pace and settle into adulthood.  Historians argue that King, along with her peers, were helping young people negotiate the social and cultural fallout of the sixties.  Their new mellow sound reflected the new lifestyle choices, and provided a music style to accompany this transitional period.

Along this time, there were also significant advancements in the women’s rights movement. Concurrently, women were starting to organize politically and call for equal rights.  

Overall, as the 1970s surfaced, the progressive ideals of the past decade were beginning to enter the mainstream.  No longer were things like premarital sex and feminism taboo and confined to the radical outskirts and peripheral countercultures --  no longer were young women held back by the social constraints that confined generations before them.  The new, everyday woman was now faced with a sense of freedom and power she had not felt before.  And yet, despite the new status as an independent woman, she could not escape the powerful forces of love and the heartbreaks that followed.  Who would she turn to in these times of need?

Enter Carole King, whom like many of her peers, was becoming a new woman herself and was seeking a fresh start and identity.  Having relocated from New York with her two daughters after her divorce from Gerry Goffin, she found a new home in the Laurel Canyon neighborhood of Los Angeles, nestled in the Hollywood Hills alongside a burgeoning community of singer-songwriters.  Among her peers were the likes of Joni Mitchell, Crosby, Stills, and Nash.  

King had no problem fitting into this new scene.  Once again, she started writing songs and found herself playing piano in the band of James Taylor, another prominent young singer-songwriter.  The venue of choice for this Laurel Canyon crowd was the Troubadour, a short drive down the hill to the popular Sunset Strip.  It was here where one night in November 1970, Taylor encouraged King to perform a song of her own during his encore.  

The rest, as they say, is history.  During this performance, Carole developed the confidence to step out on her own and in the coming months, she would begin recording the Tapestry sessions.

The songs of Tapestry captured both the strength and vulnerability that women were feeling at the time.  It became their soundtrack.  She was still writing about the same themes of relationships from her earlier songwriting days at the Brill Building, but this time through a more sophisticated and personal voice.  And the women recognized this - she was singing to them.  

The album cover of Tapestry itself captures this spirit of the new woman.  King, at home in Laurel Canyon, is barefoot and wearing a simple pair of jeans and a sweater.  Her hair parted down the middle, leaving her natural curls exposed with little makeup adoring her face.  The sun peers through her window as she busies herself with a tapestry.  A cat looms in the forefront of the frame.   If this picture sounds all too familiar, it is because it was.   The Carole King presented to us on the cover of Tapestry was a woman we all knew.  It could have been you.  Or perhaps your best friend.  There was little separating the artist with the everyday. And this imagery was not by accident.  The album cover was shot by photographer Jim McCrary, who served as A&M Records’ chief photography in the late 60s through mid-70s.  When McCrary saw the cat in King’s house, he asked if he could move it into the picture to create the look he was aiming for.  Lou Adler, the album’s producer, admired this decision, stating that "conceptually, he [McCrary] always understood what the person was about and was able to photograph their personality. A perfect example of that is the 'Tapestry' album.... The idea of having the cat, that brought a personal feeling to it."

The album begins with the upbeat, bluesy tune, “I Feel the Earth Move” and over the course of the next eleven songs, a range of emotions, tempos, and styles are covered.  From the inspiration and loyalty in “Beautiful“ and “You’ve Got a Friend” to the longing and vulnerability in “So Far Away” and “Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow”.

Aside from representing the “voice of the new woman”, the success of Tapestry must also be attributed to King’s shear strength as a songwriter.  The album is rooted in the fundamental elements of  well-crafted pop songs.  Compared to the poetic imagery of Mitchell’s Blue, these were not particularly groundbreaking or revolutionary lyrics, but in their simplicity women found lyrics they could relate to.   At the end of the day, King is a master of the craft of songwriting.  Even though there is shift towards the more personal writing style, she had not lost sight of the fundamental elements of pop music she developed during her formative days of songwriting in the Brill Building.  There are still the catchy hooks and strong choruses that make us want to sing along.  

Overall, Tapestry grew in popularity because it was reflective of the social context of its time.  But remained such a success over the years because of its mastery of the pop song format.  Give it a listen.



Friday, February 14, 2014

Ella Fitgerald "My Funny Valentine"

Rogers and Hart could sure write a song.

 
 
"My Funny Valentine"
written in 1937
 
My funny valentine
Sweet comic valentine
You make me smile with my heart
You're looks are laughable
Un-photographable
Yet, you're my favorite work of art
Is your figure less than Greek?
Is your mouth a little weak?
When you open it to speak
Are you smart?
But don't change a hair for me
Not if you care for me
Stay little valentine, stay
Each day is Valentines Day


Read more: Chet Baker - My Funny Valentine Lyrics | MetroLyrics

Thursday, February 13, 2014

90's: Ani DiFranco and the rise of Righteous Babe Records

With many of her recent recordings featuring jazz-hinged instrumentation and funky horn sections, Ani DiFranco's music has certainly evolved from her humble beginnings as a solo folk act.  Her prolific discography demonstrates her growth and maturity as an artist.  But throughout her journey, she has never lost sight of the DIY ethos and independent spirit that helped launch her career.

Unhappy with the status quo corporate record labels, DiFranco started her own company, Righteous Babe Records, in the early 90s.  The label, which she defined as a "a people-friendly, sub-corporate, woman-informed, queer-happy small business that puts music before rock stardom and ideology before profit,” grew in its success as DiFranco's career blossomed (largely in-part to her strong grassroots following) and by the middle of the decade, it was gaining attention from the business world for its high profit margin.  While not to discount its success, this new attention was rather ironic, given the ideals in which the label was founded.

DiFranco retorted with this open letter to Ms. magazine:   

 

 

Ani DiFranco
open letter to Ms

**You may distribute or forward the following as long as you do not alter or edit it.**

November 5, 1997

Marcia Ann Gillespie,
Editor in Chief
Ms. Magazine
135 W. 50th Street
16th Floor
New York, NY 10020

So I’m poring through the 25th anniversary issue of Ms. (on some airplane going somewhere in the amorphous blur that amounts to my life) and I’m finding it endlessly enlightening and stimulating as always, when, whaddaya know, I come across a little picture of little me. I was flattered to be included in that issue’s “21 feminists for the 21st century” thingybob. I think ya’ll are runnin the most bold and babe-olishious magazine around, after all.

Problem is, I couldn’t help but be a little weirded out by the paragraph next to my head that summed up her me-ness and my relationship to the feminist continuum. What got me was that it largely detailed my financial successes and sales statistics. My achievements were represented by the fact that I “make more money per album sold than Hootie and the Blowfish,” and that my catalogue sales exceed 3/4 of a million. It was specified that I don’t just have my own record company but my own “profitable” record company. Still, the ironic conclusion of the aforementioned blurb is a quote from me insisting “it’s not about the money.” Why then, I ask myself, must “the money” be the focus of so much of the media that surrounds me? Why can’t I escape it, even in the hallowed pages of Ms.?

Firstly, this “Hootie and the Blowfish” business was not my doing. The LA Times financial section wrote an article about my record label, Righteous Babe Records, in which they raved about the business savvy of a singer (me) who thwarted the corporate overhead by choosing to remain independent, thereby pocketing $4.25 per unit, as opposed to the $1.25 made by Hootie or the $2.00 made by Michael Jackson. This story was then picked up and reprinted by The New York Times, Forbes magazine, the Financial News Network, and (lo and behold) Ms.

So here I am, publicly morphing into some kinda Fortune 500-young-entrepreneur-from-hell, and all along I thought I was just a folksinger!

Ok, it’s true. I do make a much larger profit (percentage-wise) than the Hootster. What’s even more astounding is that there are thousands of musicians out there who make an even higher profit percentage than me! How many local musicians are there in your community who play gigs in bars and coffee shops about town? I bet lots of them have made cassettes or CDS which they’ll happily sell to you with a personal smile from the edge of the stage or back at the bar after their set. Would you believe these shrewd, profit-minded wheeler-dealers are pocketing a whopping _100%_ of the profits on the sales of those puppies?! Wait till the Financial News Network gets a whiff of _them_!

I sell approximately 2.5% of the albums that a Joan Jewelanis Morrisette sells and get about .05% of the airplay royalties, so obviously if it all comes down to dollars and cents, I’ve led a wholly unremarkable life. Yet I choose relative statistical mediocrity over fame and fortune because I have a bigger purpose in mind. Imagine how strange it must be for a girl who has spent 10 years fighting as hard as she could against the lure of the corporate carrot and the almighty forces of capital, only to be eventually recognized by the power structure as a business pioneer.

I have indeed sold enough records to open a small office on the half-abandoned main street in the dilapidated urban center of my hometown, Buffalo, N.Y. I am able to hire 15 or so folks to run and constantly reinvent the place while I drive around and play music for people. I am able to give stimulating business to local printers and manufacturers and to employ the services of independent distributors, promoters, booking agents and publicists. I was able to quit my day job and devote myself to what I love. And yes, we are enjoying modest profits these days, affording us the opportunity to reinvest in innumerable political and artistic endeavors. RBR is no Warner Bros. But it is a going concern, and for me, it is a vehicle for redefining the relationship between art and commerce in my own life. It is a record company which is the product not just of my own imagination, but that of my friend and manager Scot Fisher and of all the people who work there. People who incorporate and coordinate politics, art and media every day into a people-friendly, sub-corporate, woman-informed, queer-happy small business that puts music before rock stardom and ideology before profit.

And me. I’m just a folksinger, not an entrepreneur. My hope is that my music and poetry will be enjoyable and/or meaningful to someone, somewhere, not that I maximize my profit margins. It was 15 years and 11 albums getting to this place of notoriety and, if anything, I think I was happier way back when. Not that I regret any of my decisions, mind you. I’m glad I didn’t sign on to the corporate army. I mourn the commodification and homogenization of music by the music industry, and I fear the manufacture of consent by the corporately-controlled media. Last thing I want to do is feed the machine.

I was recently mortified while waiting in the dressing room before one of my own shows. Some putz suddenly takes the stage to announce me and exclaim excitedly that this was my “largest sold-out crowd to date!” “Oh, really?,” I’m thinking to myself, “that’s interesting…too bad it’s not the point.” All of my achievements are artistic, as are all of my failures.

That’s just the way I see it. Statistical plateau or no. I’ll bust ass for 60 people, or 6,000, watch me.

I have so much respect for Ms. magazine. If I couldn’t pick it up at newsstands my brain probably would’ve atrophied by now on some trans-Atlantic flight and I would be lying limp and twitchy in a bed of constant travel, staring blankly into the abyss of the gossip magazines. Ms. is a structure of media wherein women are able to define themselves, and articulate for themselves those definitions. We wouldn’t point to 21 of the feminists moving into the 21st century and define them in terms of “Here’s Becky Ballbuster from Iowa City, she’s got a great ass and a cute little button nose…” No ma’am. We’ve gone beyond the limited perceptions of sexism and so we should move beyond the language and perspective of the corporate patriarchy. The Financial News Network may be ultimately impressed with me now that I’ve proven to them that there’s a life beyond the auspices of papa Sony, but do I really have to prove this to _you_?

We have the ability and the opportunity to recognize women not just for the financial successes of their work but for the work itself. We have the facility to judge each other by entirely different criteria than those is imposed upon us by the superstructure of society. We have a view which reaches beyond profit margins into poetry, and a vocabulary to articulate the difference. Thanks for including me, Ms., really. But just promise me one thing; if I drop dead tomorrow, tell me my grave stone won’t read:

ani d.
CEO.

Please let it read:

songwriter
musicmaker
storyteller
freak.

Ani DiFranco

Wednesday, February 12, 2014

Songs from the 90s: Meshell Ndegeocello "If That's Your Boyfriend (He Wasn't Last Night)"



"If That's Your Boyfriend (He Wasn't Last Night)"
from "Plantation Lullabies", released in 1993

You say that's your boyfriend
You say I'm out of line
Funny, he said I could call him up anytime
You can say I'm wrong say I ain't right
But if that's you boyfriend he wasn't last night

Now I'm the kind of woman
I'll do almost anything to get what I want
I might play any little game
Call me what you like but you know it's true
You're just jealous 'cause he wasn't with you
Don't mean no harm I just like what I see
And it ain't my fault if he wants me
Got what I wanted and the feeling was right
So if that's your boyfriend he wasn't last night

Boyfriend boyfriend yes I had your boyfriend
Now late at night he calls me on the telephone
That's why when you call
All you get is the busy busy tone
You're upset 'cause you're one stuck-up bitch
Maybe he needed a change a switch
And who am I not to oblige
Especially if the man is fly
So call me what you like
Call me what you like
While I boot slam your boyfriend tonight



Monday, February 10, 2014

Liz Phair - "Exile in Guyville"

Liz Phair's "Exile in Guyville" was released on June 22, 1993.  It is said to be a direct response to the Rolling Stones' classic, "Exile on Main Street", which is largely felt as a metaphoric retort to the male-dominated rock industry, rather than a verbatim song-by-song comeback.  As Phair describes in the interview clip below, she was tired of being defined as the "girlfriend of the band" and of the dismissive views and disrespect felt because she was not part of the "boys club" of rock and roll.

The album opens with the track, "6'1"".  Phair transforms herself in the chorus - "And I kept standing 6'1", instead of 5'2", and I loved my life, and I hated you" - into a woman who is able to stand up for herself against a man who "falls into bed too easily with the beautiful girls who are shyly brave". This embracing of a strong, larger-than-life persona sets the stages for the songs to follow.  In "Girls! Girls! Girls!", she takes "full advantage" of every man meets, and gets away with what "the girls call murder".  I'm not sure exactly what this refers to, but it is clear that she is a woman who should not be messed with.
 
But as Phair aludes to when reflecting back fifteen years after the album's release, there is also a certain amount of vulnerability felt throughout the album:

"When I listen to it now, I kind of feel much more of the sadness that was in there than I did at the time.  I thought I sort of passing on my toughness and selling it, and people bought it.  But now listening back to it, I can see how totally vulnerable I was, and how it is very clear how unsure of myself - it shows.  But it's endearing." - Liz Phair, Pitchfork Interview 2008
 
To me, this duality between toughness and vulnerability is exemplified in tracks such as "Mesmerizing" and "F*** & Run", which both reveal a complex character who is strong, yet self-conscious.  A woman who is tired of abusive relationships and one night stands and longs for a committed partner, "I want a boyfriend.  I want all that stupid old shit, letters and sodas."

Overall, "Exile in Guyville" represents the new era of feminism emerging out of the 90's.  This was not Carole King's "Natural Woman", this was a new voice all together. Phair was not afraid to use language and allude to her sexuality in ways that had not been done before. The album still stands out for these reasons, but it also stands out on merit alone as a solid rock album.  It has achieved status as a lo-fi masterpiece among rock fans, but minimalism and production quality aside, the album is full of swagger and possesses the rock and roll quality that lives up to its predecessor "Exile on Main Street".  Mick and Keith should be proud to hold such company.

Liz looks back 15 years later:




For more on Exile, read Carrie Brownstein's essay on the album from her former days as a NPR blogger.


Wednesday, February 5, 2014

The Women of the 90's

From "Girl Power" to riot grrl, the 90's stand out as a particularly monumental decade for female artists. Never before, and arguably not since, has there been such a unique period where all genres of music were witness to such groundbreaking work.

From Salt-n-Pepa's "Let's Talk About Sex" to Liz Phair's "F*** & Run", nothing was held back. There was no need for innuendo, as the lyrics were raw, filled with emotion, and brutally honest in ways we'd never heard before.

But it wasn't just about sex and relationships, it was gender and racial equality, empowerment, and expression. Pop culture was dominated by the Spice Girls and Lilith Fair, and a generation of women embraced a "third-wave" of feminism that gave voice to previously taboo issues and labels.

What was it about this generation of women that led to this movement?  Was this "new voice" just a natural evolution of music - or were there specific cultural shifts that contributed?  Throughout the coming weeks, we will be exploring these questions and more as we take a deeper look into the music from this era. 

To start off this conversation, let me offer one of my favorite songs from this era:  En Vogue's "Free Your Mind".





"Free Your Mind"
Prejudice, wrote a song about it.
Like to hear it? Here it go.

I wear tight clothing, high heeled shoes
It doesn't mean that I'm a prostitute, no no
I like rap music, wear hip hop clothes
That doesn't mean that I'm out sellin' dope no no
Oh my forgive me for having straight hair, no
It doesn't mean there's another blood in my heir yeah yeah
I might date another race or color
It doesn't mean I don't like my strong black brothers.

Why oh why must it be this way
Before you can read me you gotta learn how to see me, I said
Free your mind and the rest will follow
Be color blind, don't be so shallow.
Free your mind and the rest will follow
Be color blind, don't be so shallow

So I'm a sistah
Buy things with cash
That really doesn't mean that all my credit's bad, oooh
So why dispute me and waste my time
Because you really think the price is high for me
I can't look without being watched, and oh
You rang my buy before I made up my mind, OW!
Oh now attitude, why even bother
I can't change your mind, you can't change my color

Why oh why must it be this way?
Before you can read me you gotta learn how to see me, I said
Free your mind and the rest will follow
Be color blind, don't be so shallow…

Why oh why must it be this way?
Before you can read me you gotta learn how to see me, I said
Free your mind and the rest will follow
Be color blind, don't be so shallow... FREE YOUR MIND!